Rest in Peace
by BereniceAndrea
Summary: Phil Coulson left this world during the Battle of New York. Both Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff deal with their pain separately. It's his funeral that brings them back together to realize how much they need each other...
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: Marvel characters do not belong to me.**

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><p>There was a knock on the door.<p>

Nothing. Silence.

The second knock came.

From inside the apartment came the sound of footsteps approaching the door.

When he opened, the first thing Natasha noticed were the bags under his eyes, then the shadow of a beard growing for the last couple of days; the pain in his eyes and the smell of bourbon.

She stepped inside and inspected Clint from head to toe. 'You gotta change, Clint, we can't be late'. There was a look they shared, from a brief moment that shared their pain. She felt it too.

He went into to the kitchen, followed by her and grabbed a glass. She left her purse, black as her dress on the counter and followed him back to the table where his half empty glass rested. 'Want a drink?' he asked, serving both glasses with the amber liquor she had smelled on him.

'No' was her answer, followed by an 'I think you've had enough'. She rested a hand on his forearm. He closed his eyes and held her hand in place with his own.

'Tasha… I can't.' His jaw clenched.

'I know… He was my friend too' she said, that last part barely loud enough for him to hear. 'But don't you dare blame yourself for it, Clint. Do you hear me?'

He stared at her in awe. Natasha knew him to the core and it would never seize to amaze him just how well she could read him. He knew she was right. He wanted to believe she was right, but the weight of Phil's death was on his shoulders. He felt guilty. He knew it hadn't been his direct action that had ended their handler's life, but if it hadn't been for him…

He looked at Natasha and saw something in her eye that he wasn't expecting. Tears. Her eyes were watery and that broke him. He had hurt her too. He had made himself untrustworthy and an enemy to her while on Loki's spell and that killed him to no extend. But in addition, because he had been fighting her and because he had been out at the time of Phil's demise, he had added the responsibility of breaking those news to him to Natasha's shoulder. Natasha, who had also lost Coulson just as much as he had, and Clint knew was one of the very few people she trusted. So he felt twice as bad looking at her teary eyes.

He closed his own for a minute. He was overwhelmed by feelings. He sank his fingers in her red curls, pulling her close for a much needed hug.

'Tasha…' Clint couldn't manage a different word that wasn't her name. She held him tight, needing him as much as he needed her and finally, when they broke contact, she planted a kiss on his cheek. He smiled a little. 'Go. Get a shower. I'll try to find a suit in that closet of yours'

He laughed this time. 'Do I have time? Isn't it late already?' he frowned and stared at the clock in his kitchen. She smirked at put a palm to his face.

'How did you…?' Clint said, surprised that it was still early to leave. They didn't have more than 20 minutes to the cemetery and he bet they'd make it in 10 if she was the one driving. It was still 50 minutes early.

She disappeared into his room while he went to the bathroom and turned the shower on. 'I know you, Clint' she said loud enough for him to hear while she searched for a black suit for him to wear. 'Yeah, I know. You'll never stop surprising me, though'. She smiled at that. Good. She liked that she could surprise him.

She found a suit and left it carefully on the bed. She went back to the kitchen and put the bourbon away, along with both glasses. She opened the fridge to find it almost empty and something in her stomach sank a little.

It hadn't been until the day after the Battle of New York that Coulson's death had really hit home. They both felt it and Natasha mourned her handler, and one of the few people she could call a friend, on her own silent way. She didn't talk about it. In fact, she hadn't aknowleadge his passing until Clint opened the door. Clint had the same kindness in his eyes Phil did. Then it had hit her again.

Clint, on the other hand, had been replacing sleep for drinks for the last two days, playing every moment since Loki in his head over and over again. He had tried sleeping once and the nightmares had woken him. He felt guilty and weak and he didn't want Nat to know that, though he needed her desperately.

She found bread on the fridge and made some toasts. Clint needed to eat something. She knew it wasn't easy to get him drunk so he needed food in his system. He showered and shaved and changed and immediately felt better, partly because of the shower, partly because of Natasha's presence there.

They had spoken over the phone but hadn't seen each other in two days, him being hiding in his own place drinking his pain away and fighting nightmares and her sinking in paperwork to keep her mind off everything that had happened.

'Want some toast?' she asked, not bothering to turn around when he entered the kitchen. His answer, anything but subtle, was to stand behind her grabbing the food in question as she was making it.

There was something really domestic about that situation that Clint secretly loved. No, he didn't love the situation, he realized, he loved _her._ But then sadness invaded him again; feeling good about the only woman in his life because his handler was dead and what about his woman?

'Did anyone call Audrey?' he asked

'The cellist?' Clint nodded. 'Fury called her personally.' It was all she said.

Natasha felt bad about feeling so good around Clint. They were mourning a friend who had loved and had parted this world without the chance to say goodbye to his love. That thought put something in perspective for the redhead. If it had been her…

She stared at Clint's eyes, looking for something, some kind of sign… If it had been her, she'd need him to know.

Something inside her shifted, a wall came down in her heart as she pressed her lips against his, telling him everything she couldn't say with words.

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><p>I'm thinking about continuing this an actually take them to Phil's funeral... Opinions?<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: This lovely characters are not my own.**

**A/N: I promised to try to make it longer, so here you go. It's way shorter but really really angsty and emotional. **

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><p>The ride to the cemetery was silent. There wasn't a need for words between them anymore. Natasha drove them as Clint stared at the window. When she pulled over and turned the engine off, she looked at him.<p>

'Clint. Are you alright?'

He looked at her and gave her a crooked smile. 'I will be.' He said as he grabbed her hand and gave it a little squeeze. She smiled.

They immediately joined the crew of black suits and dresses, made up of mostly SHIELD Agents, some friends that they only knew by name, Audrey and other unfamiliar faces. Coulson knew a lot of people. He had been loved by a lot of people.

They got closer to the coffin; they wanted to be close. He was being buried next to both his parents, long ago deceased.

On the front row, they found Nick Fury, Jasper Sitwell, Maria Hill and Audrey next to him, the only one in the group who was sobbing. They sat between the two women, reaching out to comfort Audrey with a hug and little pats in the back, being two of the few who actually knew her and she knew as well. She was carrying a white rose that Maria had given her to leave Phil, a gesture reserved for the people closer to Coulson. She passed one to Natasha and one to Clint. Nobody was really looking but some people saw and kept to themselves as Clint reached for Natasha's hand and they interlaced their fingers.

An hour and a lot of crying and sobbing later, people were starting to leave. Natasha, still holding Clint's hand, guided him in the direction of her car. They couldn't handle small talk. Not today.

They were halfway through when they heard someone calling them. They turned around to find none other than the rest of the Avengers (plus one Pepper Potts). They looked at each other, asking without saying a word and Clint nodded in agreement. They went to meet them. They were all looking at them sadly, understanding their pain except for Tony. His sad eyes were focus on the spies' hands.

They greeted each other with a short and tight hug –especial circumstances- but nobody knew what to say. It was Steve who broke the silence.

'I'm sorry for your loss' he looked truly apologetic.

'Thanks, Cap.' Natasha managed to say and gave him a little smile.

'Were you guys close?' Pepper asked. She was holding Tony's arm. Stark didn't like funerals at all, they were too saddening and there was something about Phil, some kindness in his eyes that made him regret never getting the chance to know the agent better. He was a good guy. Tony had liked Coulson.

Natasha looked at a silent Clint staring at his shoes. He squeezed her hand tighter and she understood he wasn't ready to answer.

'He was our handler' she said, but that felt wrong the minute the words left her lips, so she added 'he was our friend' and leaned so her head could rest on Clint's shoulder.

Clint put his arm around her shoulder as silence fell. There wasn't much left to say.

Thor, who had only come back to Midgard to give his respects to Agent Coulson, who he considered an ally and a friend, and felt terribly responsible as it had been his own brother, the cause of so much pain, said something that Natasha would forever remember.

'In Asgard' he started 'when a mighty warrior meets his death courageously in battle, a Valkyrie carries his soul to Valhalla.' Everyone was listening intently. Thor continued. 'It is said that Valhalla is the most beautiful of places and that warriors rest there, until they are needed again for the final battle'. The demigod looked at his friends and smiled sadly. 'I'd like to think that Agent Coulson in resting in Valhalla, waiting to come back to our aid. His place is with the bravest of warriors'. He finished.

Pepper was silently crying, still holding Tony, whose eyes were watery. So were Steve's. Bruce had a few tears rolling down his cheeks, which was also Natasha's case. She looked at Clint and realized his soul was about to break down. She hugged him, not caring what the others thought about their relationship.

Clint clearly needed the physical contact. He hugged and held her close to his own body as he slowly broke down in silent tears. Then he started sobbing, letting it all out.

They didn't know how long it had been. They weren't sure who was still around. All they knew for sure was that there were a lot of tears, they both ended with wet shoulders; hugging and holding like they'd never done in public before. And a lot of comforting pats on their backs coming from their team, the other five people who had formed a circle around them.

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><p><strong>AN: I'm no expert nor I claim to be, in Norse mythology, but I do know that Valhalla story Thor told is quite accurate; it is considered a sort of resting place for a hand pick group of elite warriors who die in battle until Odin calls him because he needs him for the final battle and they are transported there by Valkyries. **


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